


uhhh

by orphan_account



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Dissociation, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 19:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12966336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: this is self-indulgent





	uhhh

**Author's Note:**

> just a drabble of me projecting heavily onto mika, maybe someone else will like it so i'm posting it here

Mika opened his eyes, not for the first time that morning. His brain was as hazy as it had been the night before, completely unable to shut down enough to rest. At least it happened on a day where they had nothing to do, where from his spot on the bed he could see Shu leisurely working on a small dress, Mademoiselle seated in his lap, his face completely focused but soft, emotionless, perhaps even contented. Mika wanted badly to reach out and touch it, if not his face then a hand, a leg, any part of the beautiful body he so revered, and he would have gone against his better judgment and tried, but his arm refused to move.

He let out a sigh, inadvertently signaling to Shu that he'd woken up but unwilling to care. He was familiar with this sort of mood, although it had tended to happen less often nowadays, it seemed he would never be truly rid of it. 

"Is something wrong?" His fingers stopped moving mid-stitch, eyes locking with Mika's, already moving Mademoiselle out of the way in preparation for the "yes".

Mika put his effort into moving an arm, managing it over to Shu's waist before letting it drop again. "Tired," he mumbled, the half-truth fooling neither of them. "didn' sleep well las' night."

As much as he'd hoped that answer would placate him, immediately hands placed the sewing project aside and turned Mika over, out of the bedsheets, checking him for fever, any physical sign of what could have interrupted his precious sleep, and turning up dry, locked their eyes again. "Why not?"

"d'nno... jus' can't sometimes. 'll be fine in a few hours, 's just that movin's kinda hard n'all, 's no big deal." His voice was quiet, barely escaping his lips, a drastic change from his usual personality, but upon processing his sentences Shu's look turned inquisitive.

"Kagehira, there is no need to downplay your situation. I know it well myself, and it is not a bother to anyone that a puppet cannot move of its own accord." Normally Mika would hate that voice, glare at him, demand that he return to his old self, not this empathic whoever-this-was that refused to so much as insult him, but right now it was the best response he could have gotten, soothing his anxieties, and he was grateful for everything that led up to his arms being wrapped around Shu's shoulders, supporting him as his torso was delicately pulled to be sitting up, then standing, stabilized by any means but his own mutinous body.

The familiar feeling of hands all over him was comforting, the physical maintenance being able to run perfectly smoothly without his input, and perhaps even more so with how pliant he was, and Shu seemed to have picked up on that too. Soon enough, he was tugged out to the most spacious part of their shared bedroom, being stripped down to his underwear, and having his measurements retaken (they got smaller again, they always did, and like every time his heart sank when Shu read the number on the tape around his waist and hesitated, never able to show his disappointent, his worry, but it was always there, obvious in the way his methodical approach would fall apart when the numbers had meaning), having his skin examined for imperfections, hair growth, anything unsightly, and he was being prodded and plucked at, hair being pushed around and trimmed, every part of his body being scrutinized, and he watched through foggy eyes, managing no expression but a contented smile as he was placed back in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and sat upon the bed.

He was set to lay down, arms folded across his chest in a comfortable position, admittedly making him look and feel quite a bit like a corpse, and a kiss on his forehead signaled to him not to worry as Shu took a leave from the room.

Like that he remained, examining the ceiling but never taking it in, passively eyeing the white surface with delicate trimming and to-the-ceiling doll collections just out of his peripheral vision, having what felt like only a few seconds to stare before the door opened again and Shu returned, wielding two large smoothies, one of which he placed on the table, using the free hand to pull Mika up and tip the other into his mouth. It was more soupy and sweet than the usual last-minute breakfast concoctions, and Mika felt utterly spoiled, letting his head fall forward onto Shu with more happy noises and earning himself another rustle of his hair before being picked up all at once and carried off into Shu's work room, placed onto a chair by the desk as delicately as if he were Mademoiselle and would break at the lightest mishandling.

When he returned again, it was with his own smoothie in one arm and the biggest teddy bear they collectively owned in the other, moving the former out of the way and placing the latter in Mika's lap, posing him around it such that he could fall forward onto it without collapsing, instead leaning on the edge of the desk, facing the workstation whose owner made haste to have something to use it for, piling an unfinished project and fabric onto it. He set about his work, a process Mika never got tired of absently watching, admiring the genius in action, curled up around the teddy bear.

The silence was comfortable at first, no pressure to talk between them on a peaceful day, but as Mika's nature was, he was overcome with the urge to say something, and pushed out a muttered "Oshi-san..."

"Yes?"

"love ya."

His fingers faltered, pinched fabric making its way back to the table as he turned to look at the offending mouth, now curved into as much of a smile as it could manage, opening his mouth for a while before managing to choke the words out.

"I don't understand how you could." It was quiet, raw, more vulnerability than he was used to. His eyes went back to his project, moving to a hand-sewn detail that would help distract him from his outpouring. "In your position, you were- are- always within your rights to leave. Even I could never have faulted you for it. Were you simply unaware of that?"

"wasn't. Just didn' wanna, 'sall. Ya don' gotta start bein' nice fer my sake, either. never will leave ya, yanno."

"It is not for your sake. I have never had intention of being a cruel person. Cruelty is for bullies who thrive off of damaging the livelihood of innocents. To think I ever treated the person I ca- treated you in such a manner..." His voice broke, and his fingers shook, and he would intermittently stop to steady his breath. There was a limit to his vulnerability, but running away to hide under a blanket wasn't an option here. "It weighs on my soul. So I am not being so graceful as to try to treat you better, rather I am selfishly grasping for atonement. It only happens that you benefit from that."

He was telling the truth, or at least a version that could be said and accepted. Mika could see that on an objective level, the signs that would go unnoticed by anyone else affirming it over again to him. He had resented this change, thought somebody had tried to guilt Shu out of treating him like he deserved, tried to act like it wasn't enough (it wasn't, either - he knew that much, but saying so would contradict his reality, force him to admit that maybe he did deserve better than being insulted, make him go back on nearly seventeen years of carefully-destructed self-esteem all at once, so he accepted it, learned to be happy with it). If it was something he was doing on his own... There was no reason to reject it. Maybe, just maybe, he could start letting himself accept that he deserved better, too. Oshi-san said so, after all.

He willed an arm forward, letting it rest on the hand that could no longer hold the sewing needle stably and gave up trying, loosely intertwining their fingers with what little energy he had, limp hand being grasped tightly by shaky ones, and vaguely he registered the feeling of teardrops falling onto their joined grasp.

"I tru- truly will never understand you."

"Ya don' gotta. 'll love ya anyway."


End file.
